


Hollow Patriarch

by BoPeepWithNoSheep



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast), The Adventure Zone: Balance (Podcast)
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Parenting, Body Horror, Child Neglect, Drowning, Emetophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Existential Angst, Existential Crisis, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, John was a Bad Parent and Merle is a better one, Kid Fic, References to Depression, Vomiting, minor gore, not quite a john lives fic but Maybe Later, sort of cannibalism but not really it's the hunger, the johnchurch is mostly if you squint for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-09-06 09:45:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16830136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoPeepWithNoSheep/pseuds/BoPeepWithNoSheep
Summary: John was a father once. He wasn't a good one.Merle promises to be a better one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TAZ writers discord got me On Brand again with relative ocs no one asked for, this time spawned from the idea of John and Merle parallels where John was also a father before the Hunger. He was not a good one.

Jane remembers falling asleep, listening to her dad’s voice and drifting off. Her dad could always get her to fall asleep by reading to her, not because he did all the voices or anything like that, but his voice is just the most soothing thing Jane’s listened to. She loves her dad’s voice and she thinks it’s amazing that other people like it so much too.

Dad had traveled for months, all around the world getting more and more popular and speaking to bigger and bigger crowds. People talk about her Dad at school, adults look at her differently, eyes a little gazed as they glance at her and whisper behind their hand. The other kids talk about their own parents, riveted and stuck to the screen when parts of her dad’s speeches make it onto the news.

Jane is so proud of him, even if she misses him. He’s very busy though, he’s changing the world and how people think. He’s magic like that, the whole world is learning to love the voice she’s loved her entire life. When he comes home she hasn’t talked to him in months, she always misses his calls because of the difference in time zones. She runs to hug him, Dad hugs her back but his arms are stiff and his hands feel colder than they should.

His smile is colder when he reads her a story–she pretends to go to sleep just so he’ll stop.

he remembers going with Johnny to see Dad’s big talk. She settles into the stadium, in a special VIP area where she doesn’t have to squint at the big LED screens to see her dad’s face. She doesn’t mean to fall asleep during his speech, but she just feels so at peace, so relaxed.

Then she wakes up drowning.

* * *

Johnny remembers everything. Remembers his father leaving them with barely a goodbye to travel the world and give his bitter monologue of malaise. He remembers being so _angry_ because with Dad gone he has to quit track and field so that he has enough time to take care of Jane. To shop for what they need, pick her up from school, take her to swim practice because at least one of them should be happy.

Dad calls the first week but each subsequent call comes later and later until he starts lying to Jane that he just called while she was asleep or at practice.

Johnny remembers being angrier than he’s ever been before on the day that Dad finally comes home. How he’d screamed at the old man when he’d finally cornered his father alone, Jane out at swim practice. How his Dad had just stood there with that damn smile on his face the entire time. Had apologized for how Johnny _felt_ , but not for his own actions. How Johnny would understand if he’d just listen to him, if he would just come to his talk tomorrow. He Promises it will be the last one, then he’ll be home for a while.

If anyone had asked him then, Johnny would have insisted he only went because someone needed to watch Jane. Not because his father’s words resonated deep in his gut, made his stomach flip because wasn’t he _right?_ What was life really worth? What was the entire point?

Johnny is his father’s son. He is _dissatisfied_.

* * *

John thinks he loved his children once. Abstractly, he thinks he loves the idea of them now, a legacy, something to prove that he existed upon the world long after he’s dead. Two individual lives that he crafted by hand. Objectively, that is an appealing prospect and at some point, he must have found it appealing. To have looked to look at this venue, fatherhood and family, for a sense of meaning not once but twice.

In spite of everything, he just doesn’t find it.

He has fond memories of them, sitting in a giant blanket fort he and Jane had constructed in the living room or watching Johnny win races and loft a trophy over his shoulders. There are a million little things and once upon a time he thinks they might be his salvation. However, Jane and Johnny who stare up at him with his own eyes, they never keep the despair away for long.

When they’re young and in need of such constant care the distraction works, they keep him moored, tethered and anchored so he can withstand the intense storms of despair. Then they grow, begin to care for themselves and every so slowly John realizes they don’t _truly_ need him. That their love is only a diversion, that no matter what they are simply another failed attempt at reaching for something more that doesn’t exist.

That cannot exist in the world as it is.

He leaves them, he supports them, he isn’t a _monster_ who would leave those he is legally responsible for destitute but he drifts. They’re less important than his work, than his speeches, than the minds of every single being his words touch, every mind that he infects with the overwhelming and aching truth. With every mind that he sways in his favor he forgets, just a little bit the small satisfactions he felt with John’s first words or Jane’s first steps.

Distractions from a greater purpose, from the ultimate goal.

There is the smallest pang of regret, not quite for them and not quite for himself, that while both of his children have the same deep-set eyes, grey like a storm on the sea, his eldest has _his eyes_. The look of utter malcontent, there is more rage there perhaps but all the same, John’s identical despair buried just beneath the surface. Once is a mistake, twice is a coincidence, and he watches his youngest like a hawk–Waiting for the inevitable, the proof that she is just as far gone as her elders.

He finds it when he comes home when she lies to escape his gaze, when she hides behind a fragile smile but he sees the flickers of it. John sees the beginning of the end in his daughter’s eyes.

John is dissatisfied with his life, with his world, with his very _blood_ and so is the rest of the world, they’re just waiting to be shown.


	2. Chapter 2

Merle just about has a heart attack when he hears his teen adventurers scream that someone is out in the surf drowning. He runs across the beach, pulling off his shirt as he dives into the water towards the flailing limbs. As he approaches Merle’s gut nearly drops to his knees as he realizes that flailing is coming from a small figure struggling desperately to keep a larger one afloat. He kicks into high gear and shoots a prayer up to Pan. 

When he’s close enough to grab them he grabs for what he can now see is an unconscious teenage boy. Dark haired and pale skinned, he’s not wearing beach clothes or really anything appropriate for swimming. Merle grabs him by the waist, internally grumbling about kids these days, taking bets about who can get farther out and never thinking them through. 

“Can you swim!? Grab onto his arm if you can’t, I’ll pull you both in!” He doesn’t mean to startle the girl but his voice seems to jarr her all the same as she follows his barked order. 

The waves aren’t that harsh, the sea calming around them slightly, in such a way that makes Merle glance up at the sky and mutter a quick ‘ _Thanks, man.’_ before his full focus returns to rescuing these kids. It helps that the girl is conscious, kicking her feet and helping keep the older boy afloat more easily than if Merle had to deal with twice the dead weight. They make it to the beach, Merle stumbling because now that he actually has feet on the ground again he has to actually support the weight of two humans, which is difficult even when one is miniature. 

The little girl, he pegs her for somewhere in the range of eight to eleven screams at the top of her lungs before doubling over into a coughing fit. Merle expects her to hurl up a lungful of seawater but instead, a familiar black opalescent ooze dribbles down her chin. Her hands scrabble against her throat as she retches up the prismatic gunk.

Merle feels about ready to hurl himself as what look to be shattered remains of a black opal fall from her mouth onto the sand. In spite of that entire nastiness, he focuses his attention on the unconscious teen as he checks vitals. The kid’s breathing albeit labored in a way that has Merle constantly checking as he strips off the kid’s wet clothes and covers him with towels and blankets brought over by his Adventurers to stave off any chance of hypothermia. 

He sets Mavis working with the little girl, she’s clearly in shock but aware enough to let his daughter help her. She’s swaddled in her own blanket, black tar leaks down her face where tear stains should be and Merle does his very fucking best not to think too hard about the last person he’d seen with tears like _that._ Pan, he’d really like to know what the everloving fuck is going on here but his own interests are right out the window in the face of two children who need a functioning adult cleric right now.

* * *

The fact that they have two kids literally washed up on the shore dripping with Hunger Goo is enough to warrant a family meeting, which means that they have the interrogate a frightened little girl since the boy is still unconscious. Interrogate perhaps is a strong word, but Merle can’t imagine it’s comfortable to be bed bound from a near drowning surrounded by strangers. Still, the situation is serious enough that _everyone’s_ here all the birds pile into Merle’s guest room to crowd a panicked (probably) ten year old. 

She’s set up in one room with the other kid down the hall in Merle’s own room, he would have honestly preferred to have them both in one room for observation purposes but Davenport wants them separated until they’ve got the whole story. Personally, he thinks it’s overkill for a couple of kids, but he understands why his family feels the need to take such a precaution around the possible resurgence of The Hunger. 

“I’m not talking to _anyone_ until my Dad’s here,” She’s still shaking, it’s not as violent as before but coughs still rack her body at random intervals. Every time she spews up more disgusting Hunger guts but she hasn’t seemed to notice that yet. Now she sits bundled up in a particularly fluffy blanket and propped up with pillows to help with her lungs, “Dad says to _never_ to talk to strangers.” 

Merle’s been watching her closely, not with the hawk-like gaze of his captain or even the suspicious look that won’t leave Lucretia’s but with a more _discerning_ eye. There’s something that rubs him _oddly_ about these kids, more than just their apparent relation to his family’s greatest enemy. 

Barry bends down, doing his best to look as harmless as possible, “Can you tell us your name and your Dad’s name, kiddo? Then maybe we can find him for you, you don’t have to tell us anything else until then,” Davenport and Lucretia both open their mouths to protest but Barry gives them a look before reaching out with his pinky towards the girl, “I promise we don’t want to hurt you or anything, if we can we want to get you back to your dad as soon as possible, I _swear_ on it.” 

The girl stares at Barry’s outstretched hand and slowly reaches for it, wrapping her smaller finger around his larger one. She leans in closer to Barry, and woozy as she’s been since they dragged her in from the beach Merle is almost afraid she’s going to fall off the bed. However, Barry places his free hand on her shoulder to gently hold her up, waiting patiently as the child whispers in his ear. Once she’s finished, Barry’s face _blanches_. He extricates his hand from the little girl’s and fusses for a moment to make sure she's settled. Then he’s quick to cross the room again while discreetly gesturing for the rest of them to follow him out the door. 

Barry glances back at the girl on the bed but Merle can see his smile is shaky, not quite forced but not comfortable either, “Hey, Janey, we’re gonna step out for just a second so we can start looking for your dad but we’ll be back real soon, okay?” 

As soon as she nods Barry is even more stiffly frenetic to usher them into the hallway and out of earshot. He runs both hands through his hair and in one pressured breath he states, “Her Dad’s name is _John Malheur_.” 

Before anyone else can get a word in Taako airs Merle’s own immediate thoughts on the subject quite succinctly, “Wait, one goddamn minute are you saying that Vore Man _fucked_ ? That’s _illegal._ ” 

Lucretia’s voice cuts through Taako’s increasingly distressed spluttering about the legality of John’s personal affairs, “This must be some kind of mistake, some other John.” Merle can see her fingers clenched in a death grip against her staff, her eyes drifting towards the closed door which houses the apparent _daughter of The Hunger_. 

“We all literally watched that munchkin hack up a heaping hunk of hunger goo all of ten minutes ago. I’m _pretty_ sure there’s a connection.” Lup snorts, her tone playful enough but Merle recognizes the tension in her shoulders, notices the way she reaches out silently and grasps Barry’s hand. 

“How does that even work? Didn't you all say that the gods and that Jeffandrew fellow, they were resettling those absorbed by the hunger back into their original planes,” Davenport interjects while his tail flickers with barely hidden anxiety, “They shouldn’t be here if they are in fact his.” 

“No, we need to go back to Taako’s point.” Magnus insists, a line of angry tension coloring his brow, “How the hell does a guy like that have kids? How do you vore your own plane when you have _kids_.” 

The hallway goes silent as if no one had considered that fact until Magnus had so abruptly pointed it out--And honestly, it does make Merle feel a little sick to his stomach. He liked John, considered him an odd kind of friend but a stray thought occurs to him. The abrupt nervousness on John’s face during their last game, when he’d told Merle that he’d thought of having kids. It wasn’t nervousness over his impending death. 

He’d been _lying_. 

Merle rubs his face with his hands as he digests this newfound information before softly speaking up, “Who’s going to tell them that John’s _gone_?” 

No one says anything, and Merle stews in the stillness and the way his family is looking at him. Right, holy man, of course he gets the shitty job of telling a pair of kids that their dad is deader than dead. The awkward silence only interrupted as Mavis peaks her head out of his room and says, “Hey, Dad? He’s awake.”

* * *

The stony-eyed boy seems to ignore everyone who enters the room in favor of staring down Merle. 

Now that the long-haired teen isn't doing his best impression of a drowned rat and Merle knows to look for it he’s struck by the uncanny resemblance to John. Sharp cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and a jaw he’s _sure_ will only get sharper in a few years if the twig of a kid fills out. There are distinct differences too but they’re all less noticeable than the similarities. To anyone who hadn’t spent decades memorizing John’s face the way Merle had, he’s sure the likeness would be uncomfortably striking. 

God, he must have been an utter _disaster_ of panic not to notice it faster. 

Barry steps forward again, his hands raised slightly in supplication, for _what_ Merle isn't sure, “Uh, hey there, I bet you're real confused right now but we’re here to help.” The young man doesn't even glance his way, still staring holes as his eyes remain locked on Merle. 

“I _know_ you. You’re Merle Highchurch,” the boy rasps with a voice that sounds like crunching beach glass, “My dad used to kill you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand here's Johnny and Janey!!! This chapter was supposed to be like half this length but uhhhh, here we are?


	3. Chapter 3

The kid looks like shit, is really Merle’s first takeaway. Not as bad as his dad had looked last time Merle had seen him but the teen  _ is _ worse than his sister in the other room. At the right angle, his coal colored eyes shimmer like black opals but unlike his sister, he doesn’t seem to be hacking up the stuff. He’s still coughing just as much as she is but Merle isn’t quite sure if that’s a side effect of the hunger or almost drowning. 

Davenport is the first to speak, stiff and professional as he steps in front of Merle, cutting off the boy’s direct line of sight, “You remember your time in The Hunger? You were aware of it’s actions?”

Slowly the boy pushes himself up into a sitting position. The rest of the room’s occupants tense at the sudden movement, several of them reaching for magical focuses. Merle moves forward, placing himself next to Davenport instead of behind, “Your, uh, Dad told me about the whole hivemind thing but I kind of figured it applied to him because he was the boss and all.” 

A hard look appears on the boy’s tired face, a grimace that shows off pearly whites mottled with inky black, “Dad loved to wax poetic on his fatalistic  _ bullshit _ , he liked Parley so much because it gave him a fresh audience again.” 

A hard cough racks the boy’s body but he keeps his mouth shut the entire time. Merle spots him swallow something back as he doubles over and a pit forms in the dwarf’s stomach. They all stay silent, waiting for the spell to pass, Merle takes the time to snag a glass of water for the kid and set it on the side table. 

“He told you that everyone agreed? That's only  _ mostly _ true. A lot of us...A lot of Us agreed but there were some beings that just couldn't or wouldn't understand so...so We just sort of made them sleep? It was more comfortable for them, to just get absorbed.” The boy pauses, his gaze far off as his eyes shimmered not with tears but like something more crystalline, “That’s how he got a lot of people but--but I stayed awake” 

The temperature of the room practically drops, and Merle thinks he hears a scuffle behind him but he focuses on the boy before him instead. His family will figure themselves out.

“I was always fast, and Dad knew I couldn't lie to him, that was a problem on the first few planes, so We only used beings from Our home plane as scouts. We watched you all sometimes, but when you used Parley I always got drawn there, We were never sure why.”

“He missed you?” Merle offers hopefully, but for once he isn’t entirely optimistic.

The boy on the bed laughs, great heaving wheezes that eventually deteriorate into another coughing fit. This one more violent than the previous and when the teen finally settles there’s a thin line of black oil slick dripping down one corner of his mouth. He smiles, sharp and bitter, “I don’t know if he was capable of that before We formed, let alone after.”

A scoff fills the room and all eyes shift to Taako, “So your dad was shitty and you decided to join the Interplanar Vore Club. A lot of us have shit dads, get the fuck in line.” 

“ _ Taako. _ ” Merle frowns, his tone mildly disapproving if only because something twinges in the dwarf’s gut as he watches the expression freeze on the teen’s face. The familiar regretful twitch of sharp eyebrows and the minute panic hidden behind a clenched jaw. His hair is longer and his face thinner and so much younger but that stare still haunts Merle’s dreams sometimes. 

Pan, this boy looks so much like his father it _ hurts _ . 

“Go get a damn step stool and look me in the eye before you tell me I’m wrong! Fantasy Baby Jane over there apparently did nothing wrong, as far as we know, but  _ this _ kid decided to use his emo phase to become the apocalypse along with Dear Old Dad.” Taako scowls as he gestures towards the hallway door, “Do you not see the danger in that, Old Man? Do you want a second Hunger, 'cause this shit? That’s how you get a second Hunger.” 

Merle can’t help the glare he sends Taako’s way, opening his mouth to argue. They’re still missing details, sure the kid’s probably a goldmine of information that the ipre would have killed for back during the century but now the information just dredges up old sour memories. Lucretia and Davenport have spent the entirety of the kid’s speech simmering in a way that very much worries him. Barry and Lup are just as alert albeit somewhat harder to read the way they almost hide in each other's bulk.

Magnus is probably the hardest to read for once, there’s an intense look on his face but it lacks the distinct anger that rolls off Davenport, Taako, and Lucretia in waves. 

“Wait-- _ Jane _ is here?” Before anyone can stop the boy he’s scrambling out of the bed, Magnus moves to block him but with an impressive bout of speed and agility from a freshly awoken coma victim, he dodges their fighter and ducks out of the room to call down the hallway, “Janey?!” 

There’s a similar kerfuffle sounding from Merle’s guest room and the door slams open. Jane stumbles out, one hand over her mouth as she’s coughing again but her eyes are wide and scanning. The moment she spots her brother she smiles wide, teeth smeared black. 

“Johnny!” She shrieks and stumbles closer, clearly unsteady on her feet but not for terribly long as the boy-- _ Johnny _ , holy fuck what the fuck, John? Way to make this stressful shit liable to get  _ more confusing _ \--scoops Jane off her feet and hugs her tight. It’s well--It’s the most wholesome thing Merle’s seen in the entirety of this big old shitshow and he’s gotta take a second to collect himself. Merle pointedly averts his eye because watching two children cry in each other's arms feels almost painfully invasive. 

Which seems a little ironic considering that one of the brats admitted to occasionally spying on them, but Merle chalks it up to actually have a persuasive conscious these days.

He’s not sure how much time passes while the two sit on the floor but he’s the first one of his family to move. John’s children speak in hushed whispers and give the way both Lup and Taako’s ears are twitching he’s sure they’ll have the full rundown of the conversation later. When Merle crouches down beside them Johnny is running his fingers through Janey’s hair, his eyes just a little too wide to be as calm as his expression implies.

Besides, it’s easier to spot tear tracks when they’re soot-colored.

“Hey, whenever you’re ready to get up off the floor we can head to the kitchen and grab some grub. That sound good for you and the munchkin, I figure it’s been a while since you’ve eaten any real food.” 

The boy-- _Johnny_ \--flinches like he’s been struck and Merle feels something  _ complicated _ well up in his chest at the utterly baffled expression that overtakes the kid’s face. “Eat? We--We have to  _ do that _ again.” 

“Won’t make you try anything you don’t wanna, but just a little something to get some meat on those bones.”

“Well, I’m not cooking anything for them.” Taako harrumphs as he glares down at the downed teenager, Merle thinks it must be easier to focus all that leftover anger about The Hunger onto Johnny. The resemblance, the admittance of his own part in the Ascendant, the vulnerability that no one ever saw but Merle himself. It’s an easy target and Merle hip checks Taako’s knee as he gets up to put a quick end to it. 

“Never offered them  _ your _ food, there are other people in this damn family who know how to cook.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes a chapter is like three little scenes and sometimes it's one big one, that's just the way the cookie crumbles.


	4. Chapter 4

Merle walks into his kitchen at some point in the ass end of the morning and startles to find his two new houseguests sitting at his kitchen table--Or rather, Johnny is sitting in a chair and Jane is up on the table, hunched over and facing her brother. They’re speaking quietly, or at least Johnny is, he can’t see the girls face from where it’s tucked into her brother’s shoulder. 

He enters the room cautiously, deliberately stepping louder than he needs. He ignores the flash of anxiety when Johnny’s eyes immediately lock onto him, unblinking. It’s probably just a figment of his imagination, influenced by the newfound knowledge that this boy had been there, but he thinks that maybe he  _ does _ recognize those eyes from the hundreds in the Parley room. 

“What’re you two still doing up? Everyone else went home so there’s no need to be on high alert, ya know?”

Johnny breaks eye contact only to glance at his sister as he begins to gently extricate her from his shoulder. Merle doesn’t really want to admit how weird it is to see John’s mini-me so incredibly gentle. The hair is really the most striking thing that sets them apart. John’s hair had been neat and peppered with gray while Johnny’s hair is jet black and rolling down his shoulders in soft waves as opposed to his sister’s riotous curls. Was John’s hair wavey or curly under all that pomp and hair gel, he wonders.

A quiet voice breaks him from his reverie, “Janey’s scared.” 

It’s followed by an upset huff as Janey shushes her brother, “Don’t  _ tell _ him. They don’t like us, they’ll get  _ mad _ .” 

Merle winces, yeah maybe certain members of his family had made it known how little they liked the entire situation. Granted, most of their ire had been directed at the older member of the Hungerlings duo but it’s not too far of a hop, skip, and jump for a kid to assume that such statements applied to her too. Merle’s about to open his mouth, try and smooth over that little misinterpretation when Johnny turns his eyes on the dwarf again. The intensity in the boy’s gaze cuts off any statements he was going to make.

“...Merle won’t get mad and he’s good at talking. He helped Dad.” 

Merle sucks in a breath because it’s one thing for him to think about what he did for John. To think that maybe, in some way, he had pushed the man towards a better way of thinking. It isn’t really something he can talk about with his family, they just don’t understand his attachment, and don’t want to understand besides. To have it acknowledged, his efforts validated by someone who  _witnessed _ them. 

It does something to his heart, twists it ‘till it hurts but it also releases a certain pressure, the little twinge of guilt that maybe he hadn’t really done anything at all. It sloughs off his back like heavy rain on a hot day, overwhelming but refreshing. 

Merle takes a deep breath and saddles up beside the two children, plopping himself unceremoniously into one of his kitchen chairs. He’ll make tea once the rugrat is settled, “What seems to be the problem, little miss?

Janey watches him suspiciously, she scoots across his table, to the opposite side even as Johnny clucks softly. He still reaches out a hand for her to hold but makes no move to pull her any closer. The little girl squares her shoulders, “I don’t wanna go to sleep again. Ever.”

He can feel the way his brows knit together even as he tries to keep his expression calm and jovial. He’s certainly heard his own kids demand and beg to stay up past their bedtime but never swear off sleep. He leans against the table, resting his chin in his hands, “Why’s that, hun?”

Merle sees Janey glance over at Johnny one more time, the older boy squeezes her hand and nods. Janey takes a deep breath and her words tumble out, quick and panicked, “The water might come back.”

Merle winces, Barry had been the only one able to get any information out of the little girl pertaining to her time in the Hunger. Even then she’d been quiet and evasive, giving vague descriptions that didn't make the events she described any less horrifying. A quiet confession that she spent most of the time asleep, but when she woke up there would be a moment of lucidity before what she described as ‘black water’ filled her nose, mouth, and ears. Suffocating her until she fell back asleep. The idea of a child going through that for the long centuries of the Hunger's conquest is really too terrifying for words and it still makes Merle shudder.

This, at least, Merle can offer confident comfort over, “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, me and my family--stopped it!” He only falters a little, thinking better of outright admitting to killing a being that the younger of the two children only barely understands to have been her father. He’s certain she wouldn’t make the connection on, frightened and sitting on his kitchen table, but for once Merle has the foresight to not let the first thing in his head be the first thing out of his mouth.

Besides, he didn’t kill John. Not really in any way that mattered.

Janey though appears to be having none of it as she crosses her arms over her chest. She reminds him of Mookie, just a bit, that same stubborn turn of her lips that warn of an impending meltdown. Merle readies himself, making a mental note of what sweets and candy he has in the kitchen if he needs to bribe his way out.

“That’s not what the hat man said! He said we’re gonna make it come back!”

Yes, Taako had certainly made his opinions clear without any regard to whether the kids could hear him. It was very, well, Taako of him and Merle can’t exactly begrudge his sense of caution even if he will begrudge his lack of subtlety. He’s not the one stuck with a pair of panicked kids thinking they’re liable to be thrown in jail or something, “That’s not--Ya know, sometimes Taako says stuff before thinking about it. I don’t think you’re gonna bring The Hunger back, Janey.”

Johnny snorts as he smooths his hands through Janey’s hair, apparently trying to soothe her with a lot more success than Merle is having, “No, you think if anyone will turn it would be me.”

“Hey now, don’t go puttin’ words in my mouth, kid!”

Johnny shrugs, it’s his turn to hunch in on himself and at that moment the boy looks so much more like a moody teen than an inexplicable eldritch being, “We’re too much like Dad, that’s why he gave up on us. You might do it too.” 

Janey bangs her hand onto the table, directly next to Johnny’s and he startles enough that he nearly falls from his chair, “Don’t say bad stuff about Dad!” 

The teen grimaces, “It’s bad but it’s  _ true _ , Dad did bad stuff and he had to be punished for it” And Merle sure wishes he knew what kind of way he feels about that. That he and John had been greater kindred spirits than Merle had ever realized, just a pair of deadbeat parents apparently. 

Johnny seems to fold back into deep thought before taking his sister’s hand again and squeezing it, “I-I might have to be punished too, I don’t know yet. You didn’t do anything bad though, no one will do anything to you. I  _ promise _ .” 

Merle feels like he’s intruding again like this is a moment they should be having alone but pan damnit, he’s already here so he might as well fully commit. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees in an attempt to look the least bit threatening as possible before he clears his throat slightly and both children’s attention snaps back at him.

“Listen, I know your Dad made a lot of bad decisions in his life, he made a lot of the wrong choices and they bit him in the ass.” A highly sanitized way of summing up John’s life and decisions and Merle thinks that Johnny at least recognizes that based on his single raised eyebrow. However, the teen says nothing and Merle guesses it has something to do with the way Janey watches him, clearly a child desperate for answers to questions she doesn’t really understand. 

“A father’s job is to make sure his kids make fewer bad choices than he did and your dad didn’t do that. I’m real sorry but that doesn’t mean you have to make those same choices, you've gotta choose to be better than him. It might be hard and it's okay if you need to ask for help to do it but it isn't something that anyone else can do for you,”  He turns to Johnny now, looking the boy directly in the eye as he asks, “Now, do you  _ want  _ to be The Hunger again? Do you want to be like your Dad?” 

There’s a heavy silence in the room, neither Johnny nor Janey speak though they give each other a significant gaze that Merle can’t quite decipher. Finally, Johnny sighs, dragging a hand through his hair, so similar yet so different from his father’s and shakes his head, "No. I don't want to be  _ anything _ like him." 

Merle nods, "Then that settles it, you're not your Dad.”

Looking at them, Merle can tell they’re both exhausted, the elder of the siblings clearly holding on better than Janey who’s practically falling asleep on his kitchen table but not entirely by much. Standing up Merle strides over to them and gently sets a hand on Johnny’s shoulder, “Come on, kiddos. Let’s get y’all back to bed.” 

The boy nods and stands, leaning over the table to lift his sister up and off. Janey yawns loudly as she rests her head against her brother’s shoulder. Merle guides them back to the guest room and helps Johnny settle Janey in, pointing out the bathroom, the blanket closet if she gets cold, and where his own room is down the hall. 

When Merle heads out Johnny follows him, even though the old dwarf knows the kid insisted on sleeping on the couch in said guest room. Once the door is shut and they’re a bit down the hall Merle slows down, glancing up at Johnny with one eyebrow raised. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t want to rush the kid but he hopes it might encourage a little more dialogue. 

Johnny, on his end, seems to flounder under the direct attention, once again surprising Merle with how young he looks. Every time Merle sees a hint of John in him it’s almost directly combated by something he’d never seen on his old friend’s face. “We--I never asked for help before. Dad was famous, people  _ idolized _ him, I didn’t think anyone would believe he didn’t care,” The boy’s hands drift nervously, so different than the decisive hand-talking of his father, “Or it would be worse, they would believe us and they wouldn’t  _ care _ .”

It hits Merle, right in his chest, how incredibly grateful he is that Hecuba was there for Mavis and Mookie when he hadn’t been. That right now, he could have been staring at the conflicted and despairing expressions of his own children if they hadn’t had such a support system in their mother and her family. Merle and Hecuba may have been a bad match but Merle thinks that, maybe, it’s because Hecuba had been too good for the Him that he was when they met.

Maybe there is something wrong with Johnny, the Hunger still lingers in his heart trying to break free--but doesn’t that mean they just have to prove those feelings wrong? If he can show Johnny that there are things worth living for, if he can do for him what he hadn’t been able to do for John then that’s just what he’ll have to do. 

He won’t let John’s fall to the same darkness, won’t let him drown in that loneliness and suffering, “Listen, Johnny if you ever need help you come straight to me, okay? Maybe I’m not the best person but helping people? That’s what us clerics do.”

Johnny doesn’t smile but there’s something, a twitch at the corner of his lip and a loosening of his scrunched brow. The kid is settling and for now, that’s all Merle can hope for, “You have faith, and you give people faith.”

“Got in one, kid.” He offers a smile and a set of finger guns, it seems to startle a small laugh out of Johnny and Merle feels entirely accomplished with himself. The kid is weird, weird as hell, but as far as Merle can tell he’s  _ still a kid _ . There’s got to be a way to show the rest of his family that so that maybe they’ll give up the whole _‘Second Coming of the Hunger’_ bit. 

He’s nearly lost in thought when Johnny finally speaks, softer this time as his fingers fiddle with the split ends of his long hair, “We-- _ I _ wish Dad had met someone like you on Our home plane.”

It steals Merle’s breath, this is the second time Johnny has said something to this effect and it hasn’t lost its punch. He hadn’t gotten through to John but Pan, the idea that there were other souls drifting through the Hunger who he had gotten through to, maybe just a little. It’s a thought he hadn’t realized would feel like such a weight off his shoulders. 

“Yeah, sometimes I wish that too, kid.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few mentions of needles in here but they're mostly brief and don't go into any details.

“Its just a little poke, like a fantasy flu shot.” Barry assures the little girl sitting on the metal table of Lup and Barry’s lab. They’ve all agreed that it’s fair, running tests to figure out exactly what’s going on with their bodies. Human appearing as they are, there has to be some source of the hunger goo and black opals the kids are hacking up so they’ve got them in Lup and Barry’s home lab for the day. It had been a bit of a task convincing them, but once they’d gotten Janey on their side Johnny had grudgingly agreed.

Her brother lurks a few feet away, eyes flitting between him and Lup in such a way that makes Barry’s skin crawl.

It's amazing how different the two of the are, looking at Jane he would never have guessed she’d been part of the hunger if he hadn't watched her cough up a handful of crushed opals and iridescent black goo. Johnny? Well the teen gives him the exact vibes he used to get from hunger scouts. Human appearance of not the boy was a hunger scout once while Jane was another absorbed victim and that can't be ignored.

Jane cuts him out of his thoughts, “Will it hurt?” She looks at the needle and assembled vials for blood testing with the exact trepidation he would expect to see from a child her age. No old eyes staring into his soul just the fidgeting nervousness of a child.

“No way, little lady! Just an itsy bitsy pinch!” Lup bursts in with a wide grin, making crab hands at the girl until she's a giggling mess, “We’re professionals!”

Jane gives Lup a skeptical look, “Professionals at _pinching_?”

Lup’s still going out of her way to take up the majority of Jane’s attention. She lays a hand over her heart and sighs dramatically in mock offense. Barry knows he’s smiling like an absolute doofus as he wipes a patch of Jane’s arm down with rubbing alcohol. His wife continues, only spurred on by the giggles Jane tries to hide behind her free hand.

“Barry here is a professional everything, he multiclassed!”

Jane raises her hand, not unlike a child in a classroom and Lup laughs brightly as she dramatically points to the little girl, Barry’s heart flutters at the sound. Jane’s smiling when she asks, “Is he a _bard_?”

Lup hums in reply, the first few notes of their legato duet and Barry can feel the blush travel up to his ears. He ignores it in favor of double checking the syringes for Janey’s blood. While he does that Lup continues her banter with Jane, “We’ve both got a couple of levels, yeah. Do you like bards, babybop?”

The little girl nods enthusiastically, one hand flailing rather majestically as she speaks, “Merle told me lots about classes, I like clerics and bards best!”

Barry exchanges a look with his wife and Lup snorts, “Looks like that extreme teen bible works on tots too.”

Barry pivots the conversation this time, but makes certain that Jane is still focused on Lup before he takes the first vial. There’s some alarming viscosity to it and an almost _shimmering_ quality that worries Barry but it _mostly_ looks like blood. Jane lets out a tiny hiss of breath, more surprised than pain and Barry is quite satisfied by the lack of any reaction. He smiles as he pushes himself across the lab in his rolling chair so he can place and label the first vial, “Big fan of music? Maybe me and Lup can play you something.”

That seems to get a reaction out of her unlike any yet, even with Lup carefully bracing one hand on the girl’s shoulder to keep her still while the elf holds a cotton ball against her arm to stall the bleeding, Jane bounces persistently. Her smile wides enough that all of her little white teeth are on display, and he takes note of the small gap where her lateral incisor should be. It’s another little mark on her chart, merle’s got his work cut out for him helping them fill these things out but at least they can figure out the basics without anything too invasive.

Jane points enthusiastically over to her brother, who still looms somewhere near the stairs, his eyes don't quite glow but it's a near thing and they never stray far from his sister. He gives a small wave but otherwise doesn’t make to give any other response--Just stares ahead with a blank expression as his sister exclaims, “You can play with Johnny! He plays the guitar and he’s really good.”

Barry hides a grimace behind her chart and let’s Lup field this one. Of course, she does so with ease and redirection that no child--except maybe Angus--could roll high enough to detect, “Yeah? Can you play any instruments?”

Jane nods enthusiastically, once again flinching only the smallest bit as Barry draws a little more blood while the girl is fully distracted by his wife. “Last year at school we learned to play the recorder! Johnny and me played a duet for Dad!”

 _Last year_ \--Well, that’s definitely something they’re going to have to wade through gently. Her perception of time hadn’t been warped by her time in The Hunger as far as they can tell so far but unlike her brother she has no recollection. Besides a few snippet memories of drowning as far as Jane was concerned she had fallen asleep in one world and woken up a few days later in another.

The possible eons of time she’d missed locked away and sleeping did seem to register at times, usually when he overheard the two siblings talking to each other. Granted, Barry wasn’t really certain he was entirely comfortable with the older teen being the one to explain some of these issues to her. Given that he had willingly joined The Hunger however many eons ago, he was liable to have some issues of his own that had likely only festered in the ages since.

It’s a dangerous game they’re playing, treating The Hunger like an illness but until it’s proven one way or the other if either of them are still parts of it or merely affected by their time Merle won’t let them consider any alternatives. He’d threatened to set Johnny up with Della Reese when Taako had suggested calling up Kravitz and having Johnny thrown in the Eternal Stockade.

Barry hadn’t admitted that he saw a bit of the merit to Taako’s plan, if only as a backup containment measure.

As he finishes up with Jane, Barry sends her off with Lup. His wife exclaims loudly the promise of a _‘Cool Experiment’_ which Barry is almost certain is a codeword for _‘I’m gonna go play with fireworks in the house and you can’t stop me.’_

Honestly, Barry is enough in love that he can’t really find it in himself to mind if she does blow up the house.

Once he calls Johnny over the boy seems hesitant as he leans against the table. He doesn’t move to sit on it like Janey had but he’s also nearly the same height as Barry is. He won’t look Barry in the eye either, which makes his skin crawl just a little bit. It’s so much harder to trust him than it is to trust Janey, knowing that he was a Hunger scout that plagued him and his family for a century. Who plagued the planar system at large for even longer.

Still, him and Lup are playing doctor here so he swallows down that discomfort and asks, “Uh, you okay--Uh, Johnny?”

The teenager grimaces as a blush creeps over his face but keeps his chin tilted up, eyes locked onto the ceiling, “I can’t look.”

Barry blinks in confusion, “Uh, What?”

“When I get shots and stuff. I can’t look. I-I always faint.”

Barry can’t really help the way his jaw drops at the idea--The Hunger, or a part of it at least, is _scared of needles_.

“Listen--Uh, it’s not so bad. Like I told your sister, it’s just a pinch mostly.” He feels a little ridiculous, telling a kid almost the same height as he is the same things he told an eight year old--But it occurs to him then, he doesn’t _actually_ know how old Johnny is. He’s a tall but that’s not really a good indicator of age, Magnus had been nearly six feet tall by the end of middle school if Barry remembered his friend’s stories right. Him and Lup have been thinking the kid is somewhere around eighteen but the way he’s acting now, Barry isn’t so sure anymore.

Fuck, he’s gotta ask though, they’ll need it for the data.

Johnny doesn’t notice Barry’s momentary distracted thoughts, eyes glued to the ceiling as they are. His shoulders are tensed like a death row inmate waiting for their last injection, “I know--I was--I was in the hospital a lot as a kid, I know it’s not bad I just can’t look.”

And in a moment, Barry’s thoughts of creepy ambiguously aged teens are derailed as the scientist in him ressurges, “Wait, you’ve got pre-existing conditions? Did you tell Merle so he could put it on his chart?”

That’s enough to get Johnny to glance down, a bewildered expression on his face. And frankly, any kind of expression on his face is new to Barry. Then the customary frown returns and the boy shrinks back, just the slightest, “What? No, it’s fine. I was just sick a lot, it doesn’t happen anymore.”

Theories buzz through Barry’s head, compromised immune system, lack of childhood vaccinations (because The Goddamn Hunger would be an anti-vaxxer wouldn’t he be), any number of things could explain a childhood riddled with blood tests that Johnny implies and every single one of them would cause need for Barry and Lup to alter their own tests accordingly.

“How old were you when you were sick.”

“I dunno, a year? No, like eighteen months or something? It started when Dad was on tour, so I was with my mom.”

“Your parents were separated?”

Johnny bristles, “Does that _matter_?”

“Oh, fuck--frick. Sorry. How long did it go on for?”

“‘Till I was six or something, and then I had flare-ups of asthma and stuff until I was ten. I’m fine now, I do--I-I _did_ track and field.”

Well, Barry things with perhaps a tad more gallows humor than he thinks wise to say out loud, there’s a pun somewhere for a Hunger Scout with track and field experience. He’s not sure what it is, but he’s pretty certain that Lup or Taako will find it whenever they find out about this.

“So, uh,” Barry starts awkwardly, picking up and leafing through Johnny’s accumulated two entire sheets of medical papers and using them as a shield, “How old are you now?”

“I-I don’t really know? Time’s weird inside The Hunger...I don’t _think_ I aged, I-I look the same but I think my hair’s like an inch longer, maybe two inches? I was sixteen. I still _feel_ sixteen, I guess.”

Cool, cool, cool. Sixteen. And he thought the question was science-y and not just Barry trying to make up for the fact that age had been one of the first questions he’d asked Jane and the last he’d thought to ask Johnny. Cool. Barry marks that down on the chart, crossing out the hastily scrawled eighteen.

“If you’re just, you know nervous, you can tell Merle more about what exact health problems you had or any medication you used to take.” Because Barry can practically see the teenager in front of him shutting down a little more the further this line of questioning goes. However, according to Merle, the kid’s a chatty kathy which--well, Barry’s not intending to imply that Merle’s lying but exaggerating isn’t out of the ordinary.

To Barry’s surprise though, the teen seems to relax at the instruction and it gives the scientist pause. That Johnny feels more comfortable around a man he watched his dad murder repeatedly is a _lot_ to unpack and Barry’s only got about twenty minutes until Merle comes back to pick the kids up.

It’s an issue for Merle, he decides.

* * *

As much as Lup would like to maybe blow up a thing or two around the house, she’s pretty sure that Jane isn’t quite old enough to take part in such games safely. So instead she steals the colored fantasy sharpies that Barry uses for his necromancy notes and gets down to some good old fashioned coloring with the munchkin.

Lup is drawing a dragon, a radiant dragon from back on twosun, coloring it’s scales with every single one of Barry’s markers. By contrast, when Lup peaks at Jane’s drawing she knows instantly who it is. Tall, dark haired, sharp suit, even in the crude hand of a child she recognizes that the little girl is drawing none other than John Malheur.

Her _father_ , because Voreman fucked. _Gross._

Having Jane alone is as good an opportunity as any to get a little bit of info while the older brother isn’t looming overhead. Lup doesn’t really like making assumptions about kids the way the rest of her family seems inclined to make. For better or for worse she doesn't see much merit in the way that Koko, Cap'n'port, and Luce are quick to villainize while Merle bends over backward to make the kid a saint. It reminds her too much of being young and misunderstood and so fucking _angry_ about it. She had Taako at least, and it seems that at least as far as she can tell Jane and Johnny seem to have each other.

She’s not entirely sure how healthy that is, considering some of the conclusions she’s slowly starting to come to watching the two interact from a distance. Sure, Jane seems cool as a cucumber about things but there are moments where Lup spots her almost cracking. There are meltdowns waiting to happen the moment her brother isn’t there to soothe her. It means Lup’s got to tiptoe a bit with this light interrogation but it’s necessary and they can’t bring in anyone who’s actually qualified to talk to kids like this because of all the Hunger jazz.

So Lup gets to play fantasy child psychologist while Barry plays fantasy pediatrician.

“Do you have another parent besides your dad, Janey?”

Jane doesn’t look up from her drawing, each line and scribble made with the careful attention of an enthralled eight year old. She completes the drawing of her father with a flourish and quickly moves on to yet another familiar sight, her brother. The clothes are a bit different, likely what he wore back in their old world as opposed to the hand-me-down clothes from Magnus and Barry that Merle’s had him in the last few days. Somehow Lup isn’t surprised by the copious amounts of black, bit stereotypical but it fit the sulking, skulking vibe he gave off.

With a click of her tongue, Jane pauses and taps the cap of her marker against the little drawn voreman, “Nope, just Dad.”

Lup nods, keeping her tone casual, “So it was just you, your brother, and your dad?”

An interesting expression finds it’s way onto Jane’s face at that question. Not quite angry but not really all that happy of a look either. Something about the expression makes Lup think about that time they all peer pressured Magnus eating an entire lemon, rind and all.

“No, Johnny has a mom, Miss Liz, she comes over for holidays sometimes.”

“Do _you_ like Miss Liz?”

Another sour lemon face spreads over her features, the kid’s expressive as all hell. Probably terrible at keeping secrets which Lup files away for later. “She doesn’t like _me_. She thinks my mom is bad for Dad, Johnny said she’s right but not because _I’m_ bad. My mom was just mean.”

Immediately Lup’s mind wanders to unfortunate events from her own childhood that involved ‘mean’ parents but she keeps her voice steady as she asks, “What _kind_ of mean, sweatpea?”

It takes Jane several moments to speak, and Lup can see the way tension crawls through the little girl’s body from the way she kicks her feet under the table to the sudden force with which she grips her marker. Her face is, of course, just as expressive as ever and the utter distress that creeps into her eyes the longer the silence lingers tugs at Lup’s heart strings.

“...She didn’t _want_ me.”

And that’s just about the point where Lup’s hit her limit. She’s up and out of her chair, circling around and kneeling down next to Jane’s, “Hey, if that’s true then she’s the one missing out. I think that’s you’re super cool and you’ve been _so_ brave so far. ”

By the time the first sniffle breaks into outright tears Lup’s got her arms circled around Jane. She practically pulls the girl out of her chair, holding her close as she soothes quiet words, “You’re amazing! You're so strong and you've survived so much and you're so good.”

Lup pushes all of the earnestness she can into her words, all of the ways she’d wanted to be reassured and comforted after her aunt had died. When she and Taako had been pushed from home to home and constantly told they were worthless. This little girl is going to get the reassurance she and her twin had always craved and so help her she would bend space-time herself to punch Mrs. Voreman in the face if she ever made Jane feel like this again.

“Anyone who can’t see how good a kid you are doesn’t deserve you, alright?

It takes a few minutes for Jane to calm back down. Lup ends up lifting the girl off her chair with a bit of effort and sitting down herself before settling Jane in her lap. She leans sideways a tad to pull her drawing and markers over to that Jane can examine them while she cools down. She mumbles a few questions about the dragon, fascinated by it’s many-colored scales. When a lull finally hits their conversation, Lup pounces.

She doesn’t want to set Jane off again, but really they need to know more about her home life if they’re going to figure out how to best care for these kids. So, as carefully as she’s able Lup asks, “So, what was your dad like, Janey?”

“Dad’s really cool! He’s famous and when he’s home he comes to all my swim meets and he used to bring us to his studio when I was little.”

“Your Dad’s famous? That _does_ sound pretty cool.”

“Mhmm, he’s got a show and everyone listens to it. He got to go talk to lots of people and Johnny watches me whenever he’s on tour.”

Lup can’t help the way her eyebrows shoot up her forehead at that. Sure, it’s not completely unheard of for an older sibling to watch their younger ones but being on tour implied a period of time spent away from a kid that leaving them with another kid seemed pretty damn irresponsible. Not a fucking shocker coming from a man whose solution to depression was to vore his own planet, “Was--Is he gone a lot, cupcake?”

Jane goes quiet again, taps her capped marker over the little smiley face drawn onto the sharpie John. Maybe it’s memories of binging scary movies with Bear and Taako but there’s something that’s just a little creepy about the drawing. Not it’s intent, Jane’s a nice kid as far as Lup can tell and she tends to believe she’s a fairly good judge of character but seeing the eater of worlds, The Hunger himself through the innocent eyes of a child is jarring in a way she can’t really describe properly.

“...He’s important,” Jane insists, “Lots of people want to meet him.”

A part of Lup wonders if maybe John had to have been good once, to have a kid like Jane love him. However, the other part of her, the little girl who grew up tossed from family member to family member who maybe she thought she loved--That part of her knows better. It must be easier for a monster to love something that came from itself, Lup thinks, but it doesn’t make it any less of a monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I can't really explain why this chapter was such a doozy but BOY IT SURE WAS, however, now that we're over this hump the next update should actually come way sooner because I have almost the entirety of the next chapter written and what isn't finished is pretty close so optimistically expect something next week or so but don't quote me.
> 
> Also, I just want to thank folks who've been interested in this weird niche au for coming on this weird journey with me because I didn't really think anyone was going to be interested in this concept but me and I've been pleasantly surprised!


	6. Chapter 6

Technically, Merle’s kids have met John’s kids however briefly it may have been the day they were found. It wasn’t the ideal meeting though and Merle wants to remedy that. He explains this to both sets of kids in different ways, Mavis and Mookie get a talking to about house guests and how some kids are more sensitive than others and _for the love of Pan please use your inside hands, Mookie._

John’s kids get a somewhat different set of pre-flight instructions, so to speak. Some gentle reassurances that if need be they can always retreat to the guest room and no one will invade their space, that they’re in full control of where and how long whatever playdate goes on for, and that if Mookie plays too rough to come to get Merle.

Jane is extremely amicable to the idea, practically bouncing with excitement at playing with someone closer to her own age. Merle is mostly certain she’ll be able to keep up with Mookie, better than Angus at least since Janey does seem like more of a rough and tumble kid than the little nerd. Johnny’s more reserved, but it’s not the whole playdate thing that makes him nervous surprisingly.

“We’re not--I’m not scary to them?” He asks softly, the night before the kids get back from their mom’s place after Janey’s settled down for the night. Johnny’s something of a night owl, and so is Merle. Sort of. Sure most Pannites flit more towards early to bed, early to rise or whatever and sometimes he gets little bursts of that. A few weeks he’ll be up with the dawn and the birds and then the next few he’s up ‘till the dawn and only sleeps a few hours before he’s up and about by noon. It’s not great, and he’s more than aware of it but it hasn’t interfered with his life enough that anyone’s really noticed.

Honestly, Merle’s sleep pattern is about as consistent as his ability to maintain a healthy romantic relationship--That is to say, all over the fucking place.

Merle’s relaxing in his recliner when Johnny asks his question, barefoot and pacing through the living room. The kids like to do that, always moving and active even if the more nervous he becomes the more stilted his movements get. Merle sighs heavily as he leans forward in his chair, this is maybe a conversation he should have instigated sooner but he wants the kids to come to him at their own pace. So far that’s been going well if somewhat more slowly than he’d like.

“Ya know, kid if you worry about whether every single person is going to accept you or not you’ll end up tearing your hair out,” Johnny opens his mouth to argue but Merle holds a hand up before he can interrupt, “I’ll admit that Mookie doesn’t really understand you two and your whole deal any more than I think Janey does, but Mavis has a pretty good grasp, I think and she’s still will to meet you. Do you know why?”

There’s hesitance in every fiber of the teen’s body as he shakes his head. Merle smiles and pushes himself out of his chair so he can guide the boy over to the couch. Johnny allows himself to be corralled with no real complaints and practically melts into the cushions once he’s sitting.

“Mavis is a smart kid, she listened to me when I explained the situation and she came to her own conclusion about y’all. Everybody’s gonna draw their own conclusions, some of them will be positive and some will be negative but your job isn’t to dwell on the negative opinions, it’s to keep on keeping on in spite of them, alright?”

It feels like he’s constantly reassuring Johnny in all these nightly chats, but it’s better than the alternative isn’t it? It’s kind of funny even, where John had constantly rebuffed his attempts at reason and advice his son practically craves it. Granted, the little clues here and there don’t paint Johnny’s childhood as one with much emotional validation. Sure, Janey’s as well adjusted as can be expected but the more hints the teen drops whether explicitly or simply through actions Merle just gets a little more concerned every time.

Merle’s known he was a shit dad for the majority of his attempts at fatherhood before he pulled his shit together and improved. John as a father, well, Merle thinks he might have been parent of the year material in comparison and the sheer level of quiet anxiety that Johnny possesses beneath that thin veneer of teenage nonchalance is _worrying_ \--

But they’re working through it, or at least Merle sure hopes they are.

* * *

  
Ultimately, the planned playdate certainly goes some kind of way in an almost entirely positive direction. It’s plenty better than Merle has cautiously allowed himself to be optimistic for. They end up at the beach because Merle lives on the beach and it’s as good a place as any to do things. Wide open space free from prying eyes, lots of potential distracting kids activities, and a location that Merle knows like the back of his hand.

That a few of his family members insist on showing up as additional chaperones is annoying and borders on defeating the whole purpose to trying to create this safe space--However, once ground rules are set for minimal interference he accepts the extra hands in the form of Magnus and Barry, the two least intimidating of his options given. He’d made Magnus swear not to bring any dogs, not that he thinks the kids wouldn’t enjoy them but he’s doing the whole slow acclimation thing and that’s gotta go one step at a time.

Dogs next playdate, kids this one and that’s final.

Barry’s a bit more of a wildcard and Merle isn’t sure if he’s here on Taako’s behalf or Davenport’s but he’s certainly here and a lot less abrasive about the kids than Taako’s been so it’s fine. Merle can deal with the two of them chilling on his porch and drinking his beer while he watches his kids and his newly acquired wards scamper about the beach.

“Woah! You’re so tall! Can you swim? We had to pull you out of the water before so if you can’t swim I can teach you! I’m great at swimming!”

Of course, it’s Mookie who breaks up any potential awkward silences inherent to first meetings as he launches into a lightning speed questionnaire for Johnny. He bounces around the older boy’s feet and the teen’s response is simply wide-eyed blinking before he kneels down in the sand. He’s wearing a pair of hand-me-down swim trunks from Magnus, one of the few pieces of donated clothes of the fighter that he’d actually filtered into his small wardrobe.

Johnny's gotten far more wear out of an old pair of black jeans and various t-shirts than Magnus’ jerseys that swallow up the boy who's tall but not nearly wide enough to fill out Magnus’ old clothes.

Johnny’s brows scrunch as he considers the offer, “I don’t really know if I remember how to swim, but you can teach me if you want.”

The idea of teaching and Older Kid must be appealing to his son because Mookie lets out a holler of pure unadulterated excitement before practically tackling Johnny into the sand, “Cool!! I’m gonna be the best teacher ever! Dad! Dad, we’re gonna go in the water, I won’t let Johnny drown again! Okay, I love you, bye!”

And then they’re off, Johnny laughing softly--the first time Merle’s heard the sound--as Mookie tugs the human towards the waves.

That leaves the girls lingering on the sand, and honestly, they worry Merle a bit less if only because he trusts Mavis to have a steady head on her shoulders more than she trusts Mookie not to be an influence of pure benevolent chaos on everyone around him. Janey watches her brother with a complicated expression that the dwarf would almost gauge as fear but there’s something a little more complicated to it.

“Do you want to go swimming?”

Janey shakes her head and seemingly without thinking takes a step away from the water, and inadvertently closer to Mavis. His daughter notices the slow shift in emotion across the little girl’s face and moves to act before Merle can step in to try and soothe.

“That’s okay, I like making sandcastles better than swimming. Have you ever made a sand castle?” Janey’s eyes, still wide and weary tear away from the ocean to stare up at Mavis as the little one shakes her head again. Merle smiles as he watches from afar the way his daughter’s eyes light up and she gently takes Jane’s hand and leads her over to the large beach umbrella Merle set up about an hour earlier. Scattered beneath it are buckets, shovels, and sand castle mold sets.

Mavis points out each one to Jane who brightens up throughout the little lecture until her smile is just as watt inspiring as Mavis’ own grin.

“This is gonna be exciting,“ The teenage dwarf explains, “Everyone’s first sandcastle is special.”

* * *

Mavis isn’t entirely sure how she feels about Dad’s current set of house guests after having spent the last few days with them, but it’s not because she doesn’t like Johnny and Janey. It’s mostly because they make her _sad._ Those two make her think about when she’d been kind of angry and a lot sad about Dad always being gone. He’s come back now and he’s so much better lately but she can still remember the late birthday cards, the call on candlenights if he could be _bothered_ to remember, all the little things that had made her so mad at him until he'd finally started _trying_.

Johnny’s got all that anger and sadness, Mavis recognizes it roiling just under the surface but he's got no Dad trying to make up for causing it, and that _does_ make Mavis a little upset.

So she’s doing her best, she’s given Janey some of her old dolls that she hasn’t played with in years but Dad had still kept around because he never actually remembered that teenagers didn’t play with dolls anymore. Granted, she’s only fourteen but she’d traded in dolls for murder mystery novels when she was _twelve_.

Now, she can’t give Johnny any toys but she can give him an open ear from someone who _gets it_.

“Did you like living with your mom? When Merle left?”

Mavis had told him a lot about her dad because Johnny’s had a dozen questions and then some that she’s certain he’d never ask any adults. Especially not the way that all the adults besides Dad are treating him. Mavis loves her aunts and uncles, she _really_ does, but she also thinks that maybe in this situation they’re biased. Sure, she knows the Story and all but she didn’t live it, she can look at Johnny and see a teen like her and not a monster.

She’s still _absolutely_ certain his dad is a monster though, and the way Johnny talks about him just strengthens her opinion.

She doesn’t really have to think about the question much but she still gives a considering pause, because she thinks that’s what Johnny wants, “Yeah, I mean, she’s our mom.”

Johnny considers her for a moment before nodding in reply. His fingers fiddle at the ends of his hair and Mavis thinks it’s either a nervous tick or an indication he needs some good hair bands. When he speaks it’s soft, and his eyes linger on the doorway like a frightened cat, she knows he’s ready to bolt if any adult wanders in, “...I could have left. My mom offered to take custody of me but I never said yes.”

Mavis gets that, it’s kind of how she feels about her first dad, the one she barely remembers. There had been a fuss when Mom remarried, about him not wanting his kid raised by another man but ultimately it had been up to Mavis to choose who she wanted to live with. It’d been easy, back then, to pick Mom without thinking. Now, if she had to choose between Mom and Dad full time she’s not sure it would be as easy. So she hums in reply, “Because you loved him?”

Johnny shrugs, “I dunno. Maybe when I was younger, but then it was--I could never leave Janey. I don’t know what would have happened to her if I left. I was always so scared.”

That’s something Mavis understand, Mookie may bug the heck out of her sometimes but she’d do nearly anything to protect him. She nods again and watches Johnny’s posture relax just a little more, “If someone tried to make me leave Mookie I don’t think I would either.”

“He left us for months at a time. I had to learn how to forge his signature when I was fourteen because sometimes he would just--I called it checking out, he was in the house but he just looked _through_ us.”

Mavis nods, a frown coloring her features as she thinks about that. As much as Dad had sometimes forgot about them when he left he at least tried when they were around. The idea of living in the same house and someone who was supposed to care about her looking through her like glass sends a shiver up her spine. Nobody deserved a life like that, “And if you left Janey would still have to stay.”

Johnny ducks his head down, hiding in his face behind his long hair--That’s why he keeps it so long then, “Yeah.”

“I think you did the right thing,” Mavis offers softly, “Staying with her, I mean.”

His hands raise up and cover his face, obscuring it more than hair alone could. Mavis politely ignores the quiet sniffle, “...Nobody else would take care of her--Her mom was as bad as Dad was--That wasn’t even _fair_ , Jane’s _such_ a good kid.”

He says it like he isn’t a good kid and it makes Mavis--It’s not an _angry_ feeling but it’s an upset one she can’t quite identify. She needs to talk to Mom about it--Or maybe Dad ‘cause she isn’t really sure who all is supposed to know about Johnny and Janey. Dad had mentioned a little bit of danger to it, when he’d explained that he had to tell a different story to the other Adventurer kids who’d been their when they’d dragged the two out of the sea.

As far as the outside knows, Johnny and Janey are just another set of orphans from The Day of Story and Song--Which, isn’t really a lie it’s just a little bit of a twist on the truth.

“Her and Mookie get along really well.”

For a few minutes Johnny just breathes, in and out before he lifts his head up and scrubs at his face. There are inky smudges around his eyes but again Mavis mostly ignores them, only pushing the box of tissues on the coffee table a little closer to the older teen. He takes one but doesn’t wipe at his face, instead just picks at the edges until they start to fray.

Mavis pushes the tissues back to the center of the table. She doesn’t look directly at Johnny when she speaks because she doesn’t want to pressure him, “You guys can stay here, I’m pretty sure that’s what Dad wants. It’ll be a little crowded but we’re only here every other week.”

The teen sputters, accidentally ripping his tissue in half in his surprise. “I-I don’t want--I’m not trying to find another Dad--I-I don’t think--I mean, I think that my Dad sort of ruined that for me.”

“You guys still need someone, like a guardian, ‘till you’re old enough to take care of yourselves.”

The look the nearly human boy gives her is so affronted Mavis almost wants to laugh. “I’ve been taking care of myself since I was _eight_.”

“You know what I mean. He doesn’t have to be your Dad but he can help.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

“Hey, Johnny?”

“Yeah?”

“You know, you’re a good kid too.”

Johnny looks so close to tears and Mavis figures, yeah he hadn’t really known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all don't know how much complete and utter joy writing Mavis and Mookie bring me. Also, have fun with this breather chapter because next chapter is gonna have some Less Fun John stuff more likely than not unless it ends up bumped into the chapter after that as I write.
> 
> So you've got a 50/50 shot of hardcore angst next chapter, my dudes.
> 
> (Also, fun fact, I've had this Mavis scene written since chapter 2 and I've been WAITING)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all may have noticed the uhhh new tags on this fella. They're definitely here for a reason and if that sort of stuff squicks you it won't be showing up every chapter but you might want to skip this one until 'Johnny wakes up with a scream dying on his lips' which is where the creepy and body horror stop BUT warning for descriptions of a person who doesn't realize they're having a panic attack.

A Scout swims in a sea of darkness, there is no purpose right now. There are no orders, so they wait. Wait and wade softly through pitch black shadows intermittently broken up by sudden cracks of blinding color. Life is darkness, life is nothingness. Not always, because life was pain once but then everything made sense. The hurt doesn’t stop, not exactly, but it’s dulled now by all of the overwhelming thoughts that echo through the void.

_Feed. Consume. Devour._

Their consciousness wanes and waxes, everything is simple here but it isn’t peaceful. The Scout can’t feel thousands upon millions of other souls, all of them vaguely awake and restless. Somewhere between all of them, edges slacken so that they may all be One. Trillions of thoughts filter through minds and memories and they all settle in agreement over the overwhelming truth which Ascension brings.

It is better here. To be roiling and revolting against the confines of humanity and planar physics. A body is so limiting, life and death are meaningless. Emotions and feelings are absurd to the point of nearly farcical extremes when all they bring are inevitable pain and suffering. Here they are safe, here they are taken care of.

Here they are hungry. They are So. Very. Hungry.

It’s a ravenous sort of hunger, an empty maw that demands sustenance but a Scout has no hands with which to grasp the sparkling, glittering star that flutters just out of reach. The allure of it is overwhelming, and it brings forth the very worst of this once tightly leashed and carefully aimed greed. It is not enough that they should subsume these planes, they must have The Light. Every fiber of their being yearns for it, aches and itches as the scout languishes within the voracious void.

Everything is dark but the shining beacon which dances so tauntingly beyond their grasp.

Out and out and out of reach and the Scout reaches so desperately, claws at the confines of their being until slimy limbs burst forth in a mad frenzy. Amorphous and rioting, a Scout can feel nothing but pain as the phantoms surrounding them shriek in a choir of desperate dissatisfaction. Shaking fingers _ache_ and their soul is weak but nothing satiates the constant starvation. They’re dying, slowly and agonizingly every single soul is dying and wasn’t this inevitable, wasn’t this what he wanted once?

Wasn’t he desperate and reaching once upon a time and dad had only given him a painless solution.

Dad? Thoughts muddle, memories tremble as a Single Being struggles against the thoughts of a Legion. A single blinding moment of clarity. _‘Dad did this to me,’_ before grasping talons sink into their mind and drag them slowly back into conformity.

The Envoy is at fault, the only figure within Them that passes for any sort of authority. Not a leader so to speak, merely and embodiment of their drive and will but one that isn’t so perfect any longer. They are dissatisfied with him, they are _desperate_ and the Envoy does not bring them what they need, what they crave. So they strike him down, they all reach together, millions upon millions of hands drag him down and _down_ to drown with them, to be swallowed whole because they’re hungry, _they’re so hungry_ and the light is so close but the Envoy is ruining it.

The Envoy is betraying them, he _created_ them but they’re not good enough for him. They’ve never been good enough. Everything the Scout has ever done was only to please him, to make him happy, to make him _love_ them. Love is weak though, they learned that from the Envoy and now the Envoy is poisoned with love for a being outside of their own. The Scout sees their chance, sees that utter deficiency that the Envoy has allowed himself to fall prey to at the hands of one interfering dwarf.

The Scout has spent eons watching, ages learning to dissect the information gathered from a million eyes. Nothing escapes their penetrating gaze. When the Scout sees weakness bubbling up within the Envoy they _pounce_.

Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. They’re so very hungry. The Light is so far from their grasp but the Envoy is So Very Close. If they look at him with every eye, take in each inscrutable detail they can see the little black fire within the Envoy’s sould. That which dominated all of them for so long flickers now on the edges with a delicate _white_ light. It isn’t The Light, not what they’re so desperately searching for but it’s so close and it oozes out of the Envoy’s wounds in rivulets of blinding opalescence which spill over their hands.

Hands that wrap around the Envoy’s throat and they watch with something like satisfaction as the cracks in his skin splinter further and further as the construct crumbles beneath their cavernous grip. Beautiful, warm cruor settles upon the Scout’s hands and they bring a cupped palm up to their face but too late realize they have no mouth with which to _consume_ \--

Johnny wakes up with a scream dying on his lips and a lump of opal lodged in his throat. It takes all of half a minute before Merle slams open the door to the living room where Johnny had fallen asleep watching Jane and Mookie. The two cower in one corner, both visibly frightened by Johnny’s sudden screaming. The looks on both little faces immediately fill Johnny with a deep sense of guilt.

He’s scared them. God, he doesn’t _want_ to scare anyone--but maybe he scares himself.

Before Merle can say anything, before the only adult in the room can get any closer Johnny’s stumbling up from the couch, bolting forward. He just _barely_ makes it to the wastebasket in the far corner before he begins to dry heave. He loses all sense of time for a while as he sits hunched over, choking on gemstones and sludge. When he drifts back to himself he’s got a blanket around his shoulders and Merle is holding back his hair as he tries desperately to just _breathe_.

“Hey, you with us, dude?”

A hand holding a glass of water peaks into view and Johnny cranes his neck to follow the outstretched arm until he sees someone oddly familiar. He blinks once, then twice as he stares at the impossibly large man before it hits him all at once that this is Magnus Burnsides. Another one of the Birds, though one he hasn’t really formed an opinion on yet.

Johnny tries to take the glass, he really does because that’s what he’s supposed to do isn’t it? He doesn’t know--his head is still foggy, he knows where he is again and who’s around him but his limbs still feel _wrong_. Like vestigial husks that shouldn’t be there, they feel so heavy where they should be almost incorporeal--ethereal and eldritch by default.

His hands raise and bump against the cup but his fingers won’t clasp like they should, just stiff and unmoving like frozen branches brittle and ready to _crack_. There’s something distantly distressing about that, like Johnny knows that’s not right--Of course, he has fingers and arms and legs and toes but _why should he?_ His thoughts unfocus again, he starts to drift but a hand gently patting his face snaps the teen from his daze.

He blinks again. _That’s all I can do,_ Johnny thinks, _sit and blink uselessly as the world moves by_ \--but before he can focus on the thought for too long the hands are back. One gently cups the back of his head and the other presses the cup to his lips.

The steady voice of the protector rumbles through Johnny’s brain, “Come on, you’re probably super dehydrated after all that. Also, that stuff can’t taste great.”

It’s a fair point and one that Johnny has mostly been too out of it to really notice until it’s pointed out to him. His mouth feels like sandpaper and tastes worse besides that. He greedily drinks until Magnus pulls the cup away at Merle’s urging, “Easy there, kiddo. Don’t want you getting sick again.”

Merle continues rubbing his back, only pausing briefly while Magnus practically lifts him up with one arm and settles him back on the sofa he had vacated minutes before. No, hours? Johnny’s not really sure. He doesn’t know what time he’d dozed off watching Mookie and Janey play some convoluted board game. After lunch but before dinner, when Johnny glances over at one of the open windows letting the gentle beachfront breeze into the house he can see the sun nearly dipping below the horizon.

So he’s lost hours this time, that’s fine. Longer than the thirty minutes he got lost in the other day when his brain dipped back into that Place that dad had planted there eons ago--but he’s dealing with it. He’s _trying_ this time. His dad was wrong, this entire plane is proof that things are different here.

It _has_ to be different this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter than normal but it really didn't feel right to tack on the next POV section along with this one so Johnny's scene gets it's own chapter all by itself. This chapter was also SUPER interesting to write as a Hunger Pov that ISN'T JOHN
> 
> If you've got any questions, requests, etc you can hit up my writing tumblr @bopeepwritingsheep


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